


The Grit

by Cerfblanc



Series: The Mental Pressure of Failure [5]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apologies, Brotherly Angst, Coming of Age, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerfblanc/pseuds/Cerfblanc
Summary: “You forget I’m your brother.”He’s not me. He’s not Sam. He’s Nathan. Nathan gets upset. Nathan sobs until he’s ready to be friends with me again. Nathan cries himself to sleep every night when this happens, and he wakes up every morning body and mind numb with the weary aftermath.





	The Grit

**Author's Note:**

> Teen angst. That’s it. Lots of angst. I tried :D fml.

**_Year 1989_ **

 

“It’s all your _fault_!”

And maybe, a little bit, just a little, I found fear sleeping deep inside my chest, when I realised how deathly the silence was; when Nathan slammed his bedroom door shut right in my face.

Everything went quiet.

I press my forehead to his door, and I say, “You haven’t heard my apology.”

“ _Fuck your apology!_ ”

I hate it when he starts to cry. It makes me want to cry too. I think I went too far this time.

I swallow once, “Nathan—“

“ _Fuck off!_ ”

I bite my lip, “Open the door.”

I didn’t get an answer.

_Maybe saying the one thing that you think is taken lightly by everyone you know and love isn’t the one thing that people will always laugh at with you._

_Maybe that one thing was a delicate fucking subject I shouldn’t have fucking touched._

“Nathan, I’m sorry.”

It felt as if I was talking to nothing. And I was.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” I say again.

Still.

“I won’t do it again, now that I know.”

Still.

“I…didn’t know you were that sensitive.”

_Still?—_

—and his bedroom flies open and he’s stood there looking like a cold mess with his wide pink watery eyes and dewy wet cheeks.

“Sensitive?” He whispers. “ _Sensitive_?” He says again, like a bad taste. He glares at me and he spits out the words to me like a viper catching it’s teeth into my skin. “You’re a _fucking_ _joke_.”

I swallow again. “I know.”

_He knows he’s not going to get anywhere with me._

He’s fighting with the person he loves the most, more than anyone and anything, more than our mother, and more than himself. And he’s not going to win. Because he’s not in my place. He’s not me. He’s not Sam. He’s Nathan. _Nathan_ gets upset. _Nathan_ sobs until he’s ready to be friends with me again. _Nathan_ cries himself to sleep every night when this happens, and he wakes up every morning body and mind numb with the weary aftermath.

He hasn’t shut his bedroom door yet, and I’m wondering why he hasn’t. He never has this much patience.

“Aren’t you gonna go cry yourself to sleep?” I ask, and I immediately regret even saying anything. I didn’t know where that came from. I think I forgot what we were arguing about. I think I forgot tears were streaming down his face.

Nathan doesn’t make a face in response, “Yeah. I _am_.” He hates me a lot right now. I don’t know how much, really.

Before he closes his bedroom door he adds, his voice hitching in the back of his throat, like it hurts to get the words out, “You’re great and all, but really, you aren’t.”

I cock my head, and I speak softly. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

He blinks twice. “You lie a lot.”

“Everyone does.” I say.

“Not everyone is _me_ , Sam.” He answers, and he’s about to shut the door. “…I think you always forget who you’re talking to. You act like everyone has the same feelings as you. You’re not me. I’m not you. But you like to treat me as a friend,” he pauses momentarily, and sniffles, “…sometimes I think you forget I’m your brother, and you don’t care that you do.”


End file.
